


Who The Fuck Are You?

by 21stcenturyschiz0idman



Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Boys Kissing, Canon-Typical Violence, Crying, How Do I Tag, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Murder, Past Violence, Pre-Transition Devi D., Stalking, Touch-Starved, Violence, i think so anyways, i think??, once again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26536522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/21stcenturyschiz0idman/pseuds/21stcenturyschiz0idman
Summary: The man who's been stalking Nny finally shows up at his doorstep.
Relationships: Johnny "Nny" C./Devi D. (past/referenced), Johnny "Nny" C./Jimmy "Mmy"
Kudos: 5





	Who The Fuck Are You?

**Author's Note:**

> So this was an old, self-indulgent, coping fic I wrote about some of my pseudomemories. If anyone ends up liking it, I'm glad!

The minute I opened the door, he started talking.  
He was young looking, not my age exactly, but not a kid by any means. Twenty, maybe nineteen, at least. Definitely not younger than nineteen.  
His makeup was effortful. If you’ve never done makeup before, it would have looked like shit. The way it rubbed out in all the right places, was darkest in all the creases and lines. It could be done by anyone, but it took time. Whatever he was doing, he was trying to look good. With a face like his, it probably wasn’t hard. I always wondered why attractive people would throw such a pretty face away by doing what they want with it. Sure it’s uncoventionally attractive, but unconventional gets you nothing in this society. He’s such a pretty man, why would he waste his time looking like this?   
“Nny?”  
“Huh?”  
“Were you listening?”  
He stared at me intently, like a dog waiting for its owner to throw a stick. Give it a treat. Imagining this guy as a dog…  
“Why have you been following me?” My mind was wandering elsewhere, so I went back to the first thing I thought when I saw his face in my doorway. Asking the first question that came to mind.  
“You noticed- Ah… Of course.” The man went back to staring at his feet, clinking the silver toes of his boots together. I could just imagine shoving him down onto his knees, the metal soles clicking on my stone floor, and knotting my fingers into his hair. Unzipping my pants and- “...You’re much shorter in person.”  
No one ever called me short before.  
“You-“ really think I’m short? Was what I was aiming for, but… There are more important questions. “Why have you been following me?” I leaned through my doorway, he stepped back a little, stumbling over his words, and feet, in that instant.  
“I’m a huge- big- very big fan- I love your work!”  
My work?  
He stood where he tumbled back to before, with a large toothy smile plastered on his face, eyes positioned with some crooked glee. God, his smile. His teeth were a natural yellow, and his bottom row was crooked here and there beautifully. He really was handsome. I can feel myself drooling over him, if he’s such a fan, maybe if I talk to him, I’ll get to see more of him. My comics are shit, but he doesn’t think so. As much as I’d like to burn them to the ground, maybe I can tolerate my comics for a night. Maybe it’d even go past just tonight. Besides, it’s not like anyone’s going to drop by. This was a miracle in and of itself.  
“You’re a Happy Noodle Boy fan? You like my comics-?”  
“Of course I do-! That’s just…” He laughed, a little nervously. “It’s not what I meant.”  
Oh.  
Nevermind.  
Damn.  
“I understand.” I deadpanned. I wanted to give my pretty boy one last look before I slammed the door in his face. I glanced him up and down again before pulling the door shut, expecting a satisfying thud of the wood that never came. Not expecting the familiar fishnet gloved arm protruding through the crack in my door.  
He pushed the door open, staring at me with the same desperate puppy look he’d had before. “Please, I need to talk with you.” He walked in, stepping over the flat board in my doorway, shutting the door behind him. The thud of the door was no longer satisfactory. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment, waited for you!”   
He looked like a fanboy, with his eyes sparkling and his smile shining. Five minutes ago I thought it was cute, a little hot. Now I’m just fucking pissed.  
I’m staring at him, conjuring up what I’m supposed to say to him when I realize. “What’s your name?”  
“Jimmy! You can call me ‘Mmy’ though!” He speaks without shame, or ache, something I might envy if he wasn’t saying what he was.  
“Jimmy,” My voice comes out weighed down by disgust, laced with venom. He looks confused at most. Why do I care. “At first, your presence wasn’t too bad. It was comforting. Now? I think it’s time for you to go.”  
“Nny, I can’t leave yet!” He shouted, panicking. “I’m just like you! You’re the only person I could ever find happiness in- I’m the only one you could ever be happy with!” He pleaded, obviously spouting gibberish, but the words were getting to me, and I had half a mind to shut him up. Goddammit, I need to get myself a good fuckin’ pair of ear plugs don’t I? Why haven’t I done that yet?  
“There was a girl I liked. I asked her out, and you know what she said- ‘FREAK’. She called me the freak! Isn’t that crazy?”  
“Jimmy.”  
“So you know what I did? You want to hear what I fucking did? I cut her up- Just like you would have!”  
“I’ve already asked you to leave.”  
“The way I did it- It was actually supposed to be in honor of you. Your first female kill, you tore her up, right? She was so badly ripped up, the police couldn't identify her until they found her hair in the blood!”  
“If you aren’t going to leave.”  
“I always thought that was smart, even if they did identify her in the end, her punishment goes beyond the grave. It goes to her family, her friends, everyone who had to see her ugly face all fucked up in the casket- I’m sure they saw just how ugly the bitch was then-“  
He interrupts himself with a gag as I grab him by the shirt roughly, pulling him and dragging him along with me into and through the wide, doorless, section into the kitchen. Shoving him to the tiled floor. Jimmy starts coughing roughly from the way I’d twisted his shirt around his throat, choking him.   
“Nny?” I can hear his voice shake as it fucking should. I’m done with this. I shouldn’t have fans, I shouldn’t have adorers, and people shouldn’t. Fucking. Like. Me. I’m a terrible person who’s gone to hell and back and I didn’t even belong there. No, this place is much worse and Jimmy is going to see exactly fucking why.  
I grab a hook off the wall and shoot him a look, one that he shrinks under. It wasn’t even meant to be menacing. It was just to make sure he wasn’t crawling away. He wasn’t, by the way. Maybe he knows that crawling away will make it worse. If anyone knows just how many people got away, I guess it would be some fucked up irony that it’s my ‘fan’.  
“You know why you killed that woman?” As I drew closer, I imparted my own personal version of ‘wisdom’. “It wasn’t for me, and it wasn’t some fucked up vigilantism, Jimmy.”  
I stood over him with wide eyes and a straight mouth, jumping down on him, holding a hook in my left hand. Pinning down his arm with my right. I hear him begin to plead under me, but now it's all turned to sounds. Whatever ‘please don’t’s or ‘didn’t mean it’s he was muttering, was all mushy noise now.  
“You’re a fucking murderer Jimmy. You will never be me. You will never accomplish what I accomplish. Because deep down, you didn’t want to get revenge or help society, you wanted to fucking kill someone!” I screamed, right in his face, slashing my hook, right on his face, just missing his eye. Nicking his eyebrow, and managing a good cut under his eye. I felt my left arm raise up to get a good cut in him, I wanted to drag it down, and hear him scream while the blood flecked on me like rain, feel the one, limited, fleeting peace of my life. Then Jimmy whimpered. That whimper felt. Different.  
Everyone cried, or sobbed, or screamed, or bawled, or even, yes, whimpered when they died (you would too, don’t be a dumb middle school boy). Especially when they went through the worst part of what I thought out. It’s fun to guess what they’ll do at what time, if these get too boring, I can’t pick them apart, so it’s a thing I’ve picked up.  
However when I heard this whimper- Jimmy’s whimper- I felt something. It was something I hadn’t felt in a while, and I’m not sure if I like it. Now it’s all sticking out to me. The way he squirms and shakes under me, but still stays in the place I put him. His trembling voice that he’s been using so recklessly. His pretty face I tried to tarnish. I could never though. His face, no, Jimmy’s face is just too perfect to be ruined by a small cut.   
I feel my left hand lower back down, I keep the hook under my hand, more out of habit (you’d be surprised how many of these guys try to take these things right out of my hand), but move my hand to the other side of his neck. Even his perfect makeup, although it's tear stained and worn, still fits him perfectly. He still lays perfectly.  
I move my right hand away from its position next to his neck, and gently cup his face, wiping a tear away with my thumb before proceeding to lightly massage his cheekbone with my thumb again. I watch him blink, and his beautiful full eyelashes flutter at me, what his eyes say are more interesting I think. I don’t care enough right now. I’m just looking at him, admiring him. I hear him sniffle a little and make a cute little confused noise. He’s just too-  
“Pretty.”  
“What?” His voice cracks, barely making it through the ‘w’ sound as his voice dwindles out from either stress or yelling. Shock, maybe.  
“You’re pretty.”  
He’s still staring at me wide eyed as I move my hand down to his chin, propping my thumb just under his jaw with my pointer finger on top of it, I raised his face to me. His gaze was never my concern, however. He’d been staring at me the whole time. I just thought it might be easier to kiss him if his face was higher. So, I leaned forward, depending a little too much on my left hand, and I pressed a kiss to his lips, as sweet as I could.  
I should be asking these things, shouldn’t I? In the movies they never ask, they just do it- This isn’t the fucking movies, Johnny! Oh god, I completely forgot to ask, Dammit! So, almost as quickly as I initiated it, I back away, a little panicked.  
“Can I kiss you?” For a while, he stares back at me, his pupils are shaking and so is his body, but he doesn’t dare look away from me. After what feels like hours, he manages a small nod, and I quickly rely on my left hand again, resting my elbow to the ground, I press my lips against his again, and for a second I feel like I had before. Ridiculous, and a little dumb, but then he kissed back. I felt him push back, using his arms to push himself off the ground a little. My first instinct was to get a better grip on the hook in my left hand, which I did, and my second was to shove him back down, and while my right hand initially flinched away from his chin, I managed to stop myself, resting my right hand under his head, massaging his scalp as I licked at his lips, deepening it, with his consent this time.  
Eventually, I got tired of kissing though, letting myself let go of my hook, unconcerned with the potential consequences, and moving to snake my hands up his shirt, feeling up his chest.  
“Mmm!”  
I feel him hum urgently in my lips and I immediately back up, pulling my arms out from under his shirt.   
“You can’t do that!” His voice trembles with sudden panic. What was just calm, now rising, confusing me. “Sorry- No- You can’t-“  
“Do you want to keep going or not?”  
He shakes his head immediately. “No- I can't-“ Then his eyes widen, and his mouth manages to run faster. “I’m sorry-! It’s fine, I don’t mind!”  
“Quiet.” I say softly, sighing when he finally does what I asked, just staring at me. I reach up under his legs, and grab his back as I sit back up into a crouch, lifting us up, attempting to carry him bridal style, admittedly stumbling at first, not used to carrying important things I couldn’t really drag, but generally smoothly trudging through the house after that.   
I opened the door to my bedroom, and tried to ignore the doughboys, all I hope is that they won’t bother him. I’ve already given him enough hell, no, worse, tonight. Last thing he needs is two styrofoam phonies taking his brain apart.  
I set him down on the dirty, spring, mattress I’d had for many years. At least there were sheets on it now, not that they were clean, but they were sheets anyway.   
“I’m sleeping on the floor, you can use the bed.” I said bluntly, taking a step out when I heard his meek, tiny, voice speak up.   
“You can sleep with me, actually.”   
“Er- Next to me.” He corrected.  
As much as it was tempting, was that really what he wanted?  
I’m looking at him within seconds, snapping my head around with a painful crack. “What?”  
Jimmy’s just looking at me with a little smile now. Sitting and waiting for me. It’s not like the bed is much better than the floor, it’ll be just as rough in the end, it’s just being polite. Jesus, when did I care about being polite?  
Devid, probably.  
That’s different though, and Devid wasn’t even my boyfriend, we were just on a date, it’s like I can’t even differentiate dating from murder now, god, what kind of sick bastard am I? I’m really never built for any sort of happiness in people, this is the only twisted sort of happiness I can squeeze from this life like a dead heart sitting in your hands. Which is super gross, by the way, TV always makes it look like it’s cool, but it’s actually super fucking gross.  
“Nny?”  
“Yeah, ok.” I give up on solving any of this shit tonight, and answer him. I think that I need to solve it tonight or else there might be more problems. I’m not sure. We can start with the most urgent ones. I’ll just need to list them in order of priority.   
Shit, he’s staring.  
I keep walking back, and manage to let myself sit down on the mattress, and I begin to unbuckle my boots, but what if I decide it’s better to keep him here and he tries to run later? I’ll need to go after him, and I have too much shit laying around to avoid slicing a foot open. These damn boots take at least ten minutes to take off, and ten minutes to put on, I might be needing those tomorrow morning.  
I’m slowly laying onto my side, facing away from him and into my room, into the face of the doughboys. They leave him alone tonight or there’s going to be some consequences.  
And now I can feel his back against mine. I’m tensing up more and more as I feel him breathe in. Then out. In. Out. In. Out. It’s just nice to listen, to feel. I can just feel this aching warm feeling spread in my chest, and reach my arms and legs, gradually filtering through my whole body. I hate it. It makes me feel, what is it, desperate? It’s not sad, sad isn’t specific, and sad doesn’t feel right. It could fall under upset, but I’m upset a lot and this isn’t the same upset I’m usually feeling. It’s too ache-y and… helpless.  
I just want to hold him in my arms and never let him go. That’s the feeling I’m getting. That burning fire that has grown to my ribcage and lungs, it’s not depression or self destructive want. It’s a want to feel someone wrap their arms around me or tell me that tomorrow all will be well, maybe even tell me he loves me.  
Him loving me. Love.  
Fuck.


End file.
